


How to Cheer a Species Which, By Many, Is Known to Be Non-Existent (or: Why Rose Tyler is, in fact, Fantastic)

by sevenisles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-08
Updated: 2008-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenisles/pseuds/sevenisles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She understands him— better than he does, probably.<br/><i>Rose had long ago accepted the fact that the universe was a bizarre and mysterious place, if it was even a place and not some sort of hilarious cosmic joke.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Cheer a Species Which, By Many, Is Known to Be Non-Existent (or: Why Rose Tyler is, in fact, Fantastic)

**Author's Note:**

> Nine and Rose in the style of Douglas Adams.

-

There were many things aboard the TARDIS that Rose Tyler had simply come to accept; things which, if it had been any other person, would have inspired a great deal of nervousness and unease, the futility of understanding life in general, and the deep and unsettling questions as to why such an obviously uncooperative object was ever created, how it knew who they were, and why it held such a strong dislike for their existence.

As it was, Rose was on quite good terms with the stove this time around, so it wasn’t much of a problem.

At this particular moment (which wasn’t exactly a moment, but an _un-moment_ , since they were, currently, sort of lazily rotating within the very fabric of time), Rose Tyler was thinking about how much she would enjoy some tea, slightly wondering if she should put on slippers (she should), and very pointedly remembering to compliment the TARDIS which had, really, very beautiful walls, and wow, would you look at that pattern. Genius, that is.

The TARDIS was humming contentedly in her mind, a lovely sort of buzzing warmth seeping in her skin, the day was sunny (this was a guesstimate), and the Doctor was away somewhere tinkering with parts that probably didn’t need tinkering with, since the ship was, after all, just magnificent. Rose might have felt a rush of approval as she made a mental list of all the wonderful things the TARDIS had to offer.

Feeling quite satisfied with her life, Rose stepped into one of the many kitchens, humming a tune under her breath, and began making some tea. After some expert movements born of familiarity and possibly survival, she grabbed a chair at the table which had curiously appeared two weeks ago, and made herself comfortable.

While she sat, waiting for the shrill whistling of the kettle (she assumed it was a kettle, at least; it looked and acted very much like a kettle, but sometimes her tea ended up tasting not like tea at all, but surprisingly like fish), the Doctor strode in, long legs and leather jacket and frowning mouth. For an un-moment, Rose was a little taken aback as she saw what a difference this made - how jarring this was, seeing his face without a grin so enormous it surely reflected some planet’s distant sun – and waited for him to sit, heavily, into the chair next to her. He did so, accompanied by a deep sigh.

“Something on your mind?” Rose asked, idly wondering if he had accidentally broken something.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied, which Rose immediately recognized as the You Can’t Possibly Understand The Inner-Workings Of My Glorious Ship tone, since it was something she, quite often actually, heard coming from him involving such unrelated incidents as: her shower, her mysteriously dyed clothing, a broken circuit connected to the lighting, and a lonely fire extinguisher.

“You sure?” She was keen enough to know what his answer would be already, but one had to remember their manners. It was mostly just her that remembered them, unfortunately. He seemed to be plagued with the notion that they didn’t actually exist, and if he ever found them, the universe may flip upside-down, or implode, or maybe turn inexplicably into an egg. (Rose had long ago accepted the fact that the universe was a bizarre and mysterious place, if it was even a place and not some sort of hilarious cosmic joke.)

He glared. It wasn’t quite the raging death glare he exercised on certain other individuals (people who had the audacity to disagree with him, mostly), but it was somewhere in the range of Are You A _Complete_ Idiot and the much-loved I Could Very Easily Bore You To Death.

“Take that as a _no_ , then,” Rose said, standing up as the kettle began whistling something off of Freddie Mercury’s Greatest Hits. He remained, sulking, in the chair while she poured them both a cup of the possibly fish-tasting tea; his black and untouched, and hers with a scoop and a half of sugar. They drank in silence.

“So, where’re we off to next, then?” Rose asked happily, interrupting the quiet, manners sneaking their way into her voice. “I thought I heard you mention something about the moons of Yarvis or something?”

“Yvares, Rose. Not too complicated to remember correctly, is it?” The Doctor took a long drink and returned his cup to the table empty, his brow still surly, every bone within him brooding, and Rose just grinned brightly at him. “All right, all right. No need to snap, I’m just the guest and everything,” she said cheerfully, “S’not like I actually _enjoy_ exploring new times, different places, learning a bit about the universe from your amazing ship…” She paused as the TARDIS lightly pushed her mind with sunshine. “I’ll just, you know. _Read_ , or something.”

There was relative silence for an un-moment or two while Rose shuffled in her slippers to put the dishes on a very awkward (but _lovely_ , she thought, _just lovely_ ) shelf, all the while counting slowly. She was nearly reaching eight and a half when the Doctor shouted, exuberantly, “Hah! Have I got something to show _you!_ ” toward the stove, and Rose very correctly marked down another mission accomplished, while the stove was really quite flattered.

The Doctor shot out of his chair, grabbed her hand, and began to pull her towards the console room when he looked down and her slippers caught his gaze. “Rose, what are you –“ he stopped short. “Those are not for running. And they’re.. _lime_ ,” he said with a bit of disgust. “The TARDIS gave them to me,” she replied seriously. “I think they’re nice.” The ship hummed in a pleased sort of way, and the Doctor rolled his eyes.

After a few un-minutes had passed, they were excitedly jogging out the door of the (beautiful, wonderful) ship and off to greet another adventure head on. The TARDIS whirred with pleasure, along with everything inside her, with the minor exception of a discontent kitchen appliance, which was feeling rather put out and unappreciated.

\- 


End file.
